


Almost

by snowpuppies



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, AtS S5, F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-27
Updated: 2012-10-27
Packaged: 2017-11-17 04:06:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowpuppies/pseuds/snowpuppies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's almost good enough. Post-Chosen. Things go a little differently in Ats S5.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Almost

She moans as she sinks back into the mattress, her hands skating up her sides, tickling the curve of her breasts and up to caress her neck. 

Her eyes fall shut and she tries to imagine what he'd look like—the fixed expression of lust and wonder in his eyes, the way he bites his lip when he's concentrating on making her turn inside-out with pleasure, the way his Adam's apple bobs with every moan, every gasp she makes. 

Small, soft hands trace her collarbone, then slide down to cup her breasts, tugging each distended nipple in a familiar rhythm—one she thought she'd never feel again. 

She imagines his mouth, cool and so, so wet, tongue quick and flexible as he sets out to taste every inch of her body. 

Her hands slip down the sensitive skin of her abdomen, fingers curling in the soft hair of her groin before dipping into the hot wetness there; she grunts as the fingers stretch her open. 

Jerking into synch with the fingers, her hips join the dance, lifting from the bed and forcing her open, digits sliding deeper with every thrust. 

God, she misses his fingers, misses the short-bitten nails scratching ever-so gently into her skin, misses the calluses, misses the strength that left her with bruises along her hips every time they came together…

Her eyelids flutter at the sensation and the feeling of not being in control, of hands—so familiar and so foreign—playing her like a church organ—so skillful, yet gentle with worship. 

A thumb circles her clit and she arches into the touch, and as much as she misses his hands, she misses his tongue most of all—misses the hungry way he'd eat her out, pinning her thighs flat against the mattress—or the floor, or the wall, or a handy sarcophagus—and leaving her exposed to his gaze. She misses the way he'd moan at her flavor, pin her down and force her to share it with him, mouths meeting in a battle no less fierce than those fought with their fists. 

Suddenly, she feels as if she has half a dozen—no, make that a dozen, even—hands: fingers stretching her even further; pinching at her nipples; dipping, wet and tangy, into her mouth; circling her clit faster and faster until, with a half-choked moan, she comes.

Panting, she flops back on the sheets, sweat sliding from her temples and into her hair. 

Her body jerks, and sensation floods back into her arms. 

"Have fun, Luv?" 

Still a little dazed, she turns her head to look at him; he's hovering just above the bed—if it weren't for her vantage point, she'd never know he wasn't really having a post-coital snooze. 

"That…was…yeah."

"Still got the magic touch, eh?" She wants to kiss the smirk from his face. 

"Yeah." A sad smile stretches across her face. "Neat trick, but I still miss being able to touch you."

"You're not the only one." The sadness on his face makes her ache for him, but just as soon as it came, the look passes and his expression brightens. "No worries, though. We'll get it reversed, soon."

"Yeah." She reaches out, hand stopping short of brushing his shoulder; if she never actually makes contact, she can pretend her hand won't slip right through. 

"Between Fred and Willow, they're bound to find something." 

"Hey, speaking of—" She curls onto her side, finally at ease with her nudity in front of him. "—what's the deal with Fred? I mean, is she…?"

"Is she?" He raises an eyebrow. 

"Well, it just seemed that with she and Willow…I mean, there's sparkage there, right? I didn't make that up." 

He tries to look inscrutable; it's too bad for him she reads him like the newest issue of _Italian Vogue_. 

"You know something!" Bouncing a little, she sits up. "Tell me what you know!" She just holds back from trying to punch him when she notices he's staring at her chest. 

"Well, there is _one_ thing I'll miss about being a ghost…"

"I knew it!"

"Gotta tell you, luv, that Willow's a screamer."

"Ew. _Ew_. Things I didn't need to know."

He grins at her discomfort, but as the lighthearted mood dies away, his smile fades; the space between them measures only inches, but it seems like a mile. 

"Won't be long."

"I know." Reaching out, she turns off the lamp and curls up on her side; she pretends she can feel the mattress depress next to her, his strong arms wrap around her waist, lean body spooning next to her own. 

Really, she just wishes she could hold his hand. 

"At least you're here." She stares into the darkness and pushes the longing away. 

It's almost good enough. 

 

 

 

_FIN_.

 

Originially posted [here](http://snowpuppies.dreamwidth.org/312541.html).


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